


History

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Future Fic, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 19:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Louis is nearly one hundred years old, when he stumbles into a recording studio, and tells an unsuspecting young man the story of his life.





	History

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately i own no rights to one direction. What a shame.

The palm trees of Los Angeles sway violently with the summer rain. Rain pours down in sheets, coating the windows of the recording studio, and the sound of the wind masks all other noises, including the noise of the door opening, and the frail old man walking inside.  
Austin is sitting in his office, facing the front lobby. He is the only person in the building, and it still takes him a good twenty minutes to notice the old man. The man looks to be in his late 70’s, but when you are that old, it's hard to place a number with age. For all he knows, the man could be in his 90s. Austin steps out of the office, to go and greet the old man, and allow him to take refuge from the storm, walking into the lobby, the old man looks up at him, and smiles.  
The man has pale skin, and white hair. His arms are covered in faded tattoos, that undoubtedly haven't had a touch up for fifty years. Austin shakes his hand.  
“Hi. Im Louis. Pleasure to meet you.” The old man says.  
“My names Austin. It's pretty wet out there. Is there someone I can call to take you home?” Austin asks and the man smirks.  
“Nope. I dont have anyone anymore.” The man says  
“Alright, well can I take you home?” Austin asks.  
“This is my home.” The man says with a smile.  
“Im sorry sir, but do you know where you are?” Austin asks. “This is a recording studio. There’s an assisted living facility a few miles away. Is that where you are supposed to be?” Austin says and the old man grins.  
“Of course I know where I am, kid. I've recorded more songs here, than you can count.” The old man says.  
“Really? And what songs might they be?” Austin says questioning the man, and his overall sanity. His hand fiddles with his cell phone in his pocket, ready to call the nearby facility at a moments notice.  
The old man smiles, pointing to a vintage poster, of five young men, smiling while sitting on a cement wall, and that's when Austin puts the pieces together, looking at the mans faded tattoos, and realizing that the old man in front of him, is Louis Tomlinson, of One Direction.  
Austin knew of One Direction. They had taken on the role in his society that The Beatles had taken in his mother's culture. They were legendary, and everyone wished they had grown up in their era, that they would have had the chance to be around at the same time as them. Girls in his high school wore the faded concert t-shirts, and sang the songs. Their songs filled the classic radio stations, and Austin knew most of the lyrics. Now, as Louis stands in front of Austin, he can't help but be amazed, and yet wonder how on earth Louis had gotten to this point. He was hardly recognizable as the man on the poster. And granted, 60 years had passed since the photo had been taken, but up to Austins knowledge, Louis had done everything possible to distance himself from the band. Louis is in his late ninetys, and is the final living member of One Direction, and has been for quite some time.  
The only thing Austin can think to do, is offer Louis a drink, which he gladly accepts as Austin leads him to the chair in his office.  
“What happened to One Direction?” Austin asked with genuine concern, and Louis smiles, sassily.  
“Where do you want me to start?” Louis asks.  
“The beginning seems like a good place, but from what I know, the end is where things got interesting.” Austin quips. Louis raises his eyebrow at the younger man, and settles himself into his chair.  
“I never expected to make it as far as we did.” Louis reminiscences. “None of the other boys did either. It was like we were living a fantasy, but not everyone was having the same dream, i guess.”

In the beginning One Direction appeared to be absolutely perfect. Austin had heard that said numerous times. They were the perfect set up for success, and they would have plenty of success. But behind the scenes, there were a lot of absolutely awful things happening. The biggest problem was management and what they had shaped those five boys in to.  
...  
The problem with their management had been that they knew One Direction appeared to be perfect, and they would do, and did do, just about anything to protect that image. The management would lie. They would overwork the boys. They would make up bizarre stories to fans. All to protect the image and ensure a large paycheck for everyone with any involvement.

“Most people would say that the truest sign that One Direction was destined to break up, was when Harry left the band. Some might even say it was when Zayn left. But really, the beginning of the end came only a year after One Direction was formed.

Harry and I had started out as the best of friends. I had never met anyone that i so easily connected with. I had never met someone who was so easy to get along with. He was my best friend from the very beginning, and we did everything together. We shared a flat, and in the end, the flat started the end of our friendship, and our relationship. When you live in close quarters with someone 100% of the time, you learn everything about them. You learn all of their good and bad habits. We learned things about each other that we hadn't even come close to learning in the band. In the end what really did us in was the fact that fame hadn't changed Harry in the slightest, whereas I was an almost completely different person. 

The last day I spent in the flat, was a Tuesday. It was a rather warm day for London, Harry and I had been getting a bit snippy with one another for several months. But on that day, I ruined everything.

Our management had called me early on in the morning, suggesting I change up my style a bit, and giving me examples of the ways they would like me to portray myself to the media. I had agreed to their terms. I was willing to do anything to please them. I remember getting off of the phone with the management, to find Harry looking at me disapprovingly.

“You don't need to change for them Louis. You're perfect just as you are.” Harry had said with a genuine sense of concern in his voice.

“Harry, I don't think you understand the business side of things. They want me to change, so that the band is more successful. If it brings us more success, than i dont have a problem with it.” I had said.

“Louis none of those fans need you to change. They love you as is.” Harry had said. “And it's pretty messed up to think that you are willing to change who you are in order to get more money. Do you want me to change too?” Harry had asked. 

“Harry, not everyone can be the womanizing heartthrob so effortlessly like you. Some of us have to work to be liked.” I had said, and Harry's mouth fell open wide.

“Louis I work just as hard as you.” Harry had said.

“You're basically just an extremely over paid manwhore. Little does everyone know you're actually a fag.” I had said jokingly, and at that very moment, with tears streaming down his face, Harry walked out of our flats door, and ultimately out of my life. He would never look at me the same after that. It was as though in his beautiful green eyes, I had became a monster.

In saying that, I betrayed Harry. I told him the one thing I knew would hurt the most. I didn't mean to hurt him. I hadn't intended on making him feel the way he did, but subconsciously I knew exactly how to hurt him the most. There's no denying that.

Harry had been constantly battered by the media, being called a womanizer. He had been labeled as a man who had no respect for women. He had been made out to look like he was constantly surrounded by women of which he would supposedly shag. He was used to being treated like that by the media, and would generally just shake it off, no pun intended. Occasionally he would shoot back with a quick remark here and there, about not objectifying women. Harry knew he didn't need to defend himself to the media. Those who truly knew him knew that he wasn't truly as he was portrayed.

Aside from my womanizer comment, and all the more cruel was insulting his sexuality. I had been the very first person, aside from his own mother, that Harry had come out to. I knew that he liked me. And it was absolutely twisted of me to use that knowledge against him in such a way.

The cruelest thing i could have done, was join in that taunting, and betray him as i did.

After that Harry wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. I had said something so absolutely cruel to him, that he didn't so much as want to be near me in a room. He refused to speak to me unless management required it. He wouldn't even sit next to me in photoshoots. And more than that, he refused to so much as ride in the same jet as me when travelling. I had completely ruined our friendship, and I never so much as apologized for what I had said. I had so many chances to apologize, and there were so many opportunities for me to do so, and have a chance at mending our friendship. But i never took the chance.

After Harry, I became close with Zayn. I felt as though Zayn understood my need to please everyone around me. He was there for me when I needed to figure things out. He was supportive when I made the changes that management asked me to make. I felt like in an odd way, Zayn was able to be my rock. But i never supported him the same way. I sat unaware, and frankly disillusioned, as he battled with addiction, eating disorders, and anxiety. I sat, completely ignoring the obvious signs that Zayn was suffering.

Zayn's leaving became one of the final catalysts, and it was the first catalyst to be completely public. His leaving was more heartbreaking than I could possibly explain. I knew he was struggling. I knew that he was going through a really hard time. We had always worked out our issues together. We had tried our hardest to be there for one another, and it was really a shock to my system when all of the sudden he wanted to leave all of that behind. I had respected his leaving for his own personal health. I respected him taking time to simply take care of himself, but after a while he made it apparent that everything went a whole lot deeper than that. Suddenly everything felt like a lie. Years of friendship, that I knew was real, deep down, felt like an act. It got hard to respect him, when i didn't feel as though he was respecting me. 

After that, everything really went down hill. It didn't feel the same, and we all knew that our time together was ending. We had grown up thinking that One Direction would last forever, and suddenly reality hit that that wasn't going to be the case. But we faked it. We made it work, and did our best to not let anything get in the way. Zayn and I had gotten into several arguments, after he left. A lot of them were very public, and we both said a lot of things that surely neither of us really meant. We did our best to respect one another, and even respect Zayn, even though he wasn't always respecting us. And all the while I held onto the grudge that he had left. I was mad at him, deep down, I was mad that he had left me, and that he was still successful even without us. I hated him. I truly hated him.

Even then, none of us had remained nearly as close as was portrayed to the media, and to the fans. The boys had begun to feel like mere coworkers. We still made it work though. We faked it. Were we enjoying ourselves? Absolutely not. But it seemed like we were doing what we needed to be doing in our lives.

We all knew it was over when Harry left.

Without Harry there was no chance at our continued success. Without Harry we couldn't even pretend to care anymore.

We went on a break as a band. And made promises that we wouldn't ultimately keep. Promises, that we couldn't keep. We all went our separate ways. We would talk every now and then, and congratulate one another when one of us had a child. We’d show support to one another in the hard times. They all came for me when my mother passed away. We were all there for Harry’s first movie premiere. We were all there, the four of us, when Liam's son was born, and they were there when mine was born. We even went out to each others solo performances when the location was convenient.

But in between the big moments, it was like we were strangers. They started feeling like high school friends, and I had accepted that I wouldn't ever be the same with them again. And i was content with that. I was content with moving on, and with starting my own solo career. I was content with making new friends, and moving on from my past with one direction. There was nothing that i wanted more than to be able to show people that I could be just as successful as a solo artist as i had been when I was in the band.

It was the middle of December, and I remember that it had taken me a long time to fall asleep that night. I remember having laid in my bed for hours, listening to the wind outside. I had only slept for an hour, when my phone wrang. 

Mind you, at that point there were few people who had my phone number, and none of those people would dare call me at 2am, unless something serious was going on. I clicked the answer button, without even checking the caller Id, and heard Harry’s voice muffled on the other line, he was talking as slow as ever. I remember asking him what was going on. I remember having the audacity to ask him if whatever he was calling about could wait until morning. I remember hearing his tears, and hearing the muffled sobs, before he uttered the fact that Zayn had passed away. I could hear Harry's sobs, mixed with mine, both mixed with so much grief and pure agony that they sounded nearly inhuman.

Zayn was shot and killed on December 15th, of 2020, while taking a stroll through Central Park.

I wasn't there. Neither was anyone else. He died alone. He had been walking, as it was a beautiful winter afternoon in New York City. It was lightly snowing, and the sun was out. Looked like it was a model for a snow globe. He was walking by himself, taking in the beauties of the winter park. He took photographs, and drew sketches of all the things he found beautiful around him.

Zayn died in his purest form: an artist.

The man who shot Zayn had no idea who he was. He didn't know what an important impact Zayn had made on the world. He didn't know, or care, how many people truly loved him. He didn't even know how much money Zayn had on him. He just shot him by chance, and in a twisted way, got lucky as far as the money went. 

The man shot Zayn three times, even though the first shot had killed him. Then he left Zayn there, dead, in the snow storm. A woman would find him the next morning, on her jog. The woman, knew who Zayn was. The woman was at one point a major fan, and was absolutely heartbroken to find her idol, dead, and bloody. His body mutilated. Zayn would have hated the fact that a fan found him. That would have been the absolute last person he would have wanted to find him. 

I would never understand why the man felt the need to shoot the two additional times, or to cut his skin. But the only explanation was that the man found some sort of purpose, in making sure he was really truly dead. I also never understood why the police never caught the man who killed Zayn. There was video of the man. They knew exactly what he looked like from nearly every angle, but for whatever reason, they never found him. Maybe he ran off to a foreign country for a while. Maybe he offed himself eventually, but the only truth of the matter, is that one way or another the police eventually stopped looking for him.

I remember the grief that overcame me was extreme. I felt a guilt that I wouldn't wish my worst enemy to experience, at the thought that Zayn had died, with the knowledge that I hated him. I had never had the opportunity to apologize to him. That was my biggest regret. That he died without knowing how much i truly cared about him.

His funeral was well attended. That would have pissed him off. Zayn always hated funerals and claimed them to be the biggest waste of money, and the most unnecessarily depressing thing on the planet. When we were close, we agreed with one another that no such funerals would be held for us. But there i sat, amongst hundreds of people, who surely also thought I hated Zayn. It was awful.

I remember seeing him, he looked peaceful, and calm, lying cold in the cedar box. I touched his wrist, cold and hard, and quietly whispered an apology hoping that there was a chance he could hear it. Everyone around, was sharing their fondest memories of Zayn. And there i sat, wishing i had made more memories with him instead of focusing on our differences.

After that, I changed. I stopped caring what others wanted me to be, and how they wanted me to behave. I stopped looking to others for advice, and focused on being the kind of guy that I was proud of being. I began to put forth a great effort in being absolutely kind to people. I did my best to help others. I worked on apologizing to the people I had wronged in the past, and at the top of that list of people, was Harry.

Two weeks after the funeral, we met for lunch at his apartment in London. I had been so nervous. I remember shaking as I knocked on his door, and holding my breath until he opened it. The next thing that happened shocked me, as he opened the door and grabbed me into a hug.

I apologized to him profusely, and he readily accepted those apologies. I told him how sorry I was not only for saying what I had said, but for waiting as long as I did to make up for it. Most of all, this was the moment that I confessed, that I loved him. And I always had. I took a deep breath, and looked him right in the eyes. 

“Harry I have been lying to you. For a long time.” I said just above a whisper so that only he could hear me. 

Harry nodded. “I know.” 

“What do you mean you know?” I said with a rough laugh.

“I know you are gay you idiot. I always wondered when you'd finally own up to it.” Harry stated matter of factly.

“Was it that obvious?” I asked. Harry laughed, which was all the answer i needed.

“So what are you gonna do about it?” Harry asked

“Best case scenario, id like to do you. For the rest of my life.” I said.

Harry rested his head on his hands, appearing as though he was deeply considering my offer.

“Okay.” Was his response. We would consider that our proposal. After that we considered ourselves engaged.

We had our first kiss in the doorway of his apartment.

After that, things changed for the better with Harry and I. We weren't willing to hide our relationship. We were both completely out in the open about it. We took time to go on dates regularly. We made time for one another. Most of all we just sincerely loved one another.

In October, nearly a year after Zayn passed away, Harry and i were married in Barbados. And six months after that, we started our own record label, and recording studio. It was our pride and joy. We would spend day after day working with people, and doing everything in our power to help them to achieve their dreams. It brought a new purpose into our lives, by trying to pay back what had been done for us by doing it for others. 

Liam and Niall spent a lot of time at our studio, reminiscing on our time as a band. 

We kept the door to our studio unlocked at all times when Harry and I were there, so that any fan would have the opportunity to meet us, if they wanted to. We found a lot of joy in that too. I remember when we were in One Direction, we always felt bad for the millions of girls who would never meet us regardless of how badly they wanted it. We felt bad for the price tag our management had put on meeting us. So, we made it free, at our studio. Women would walk in, often with young children in tow, they would see us, and break into the biggest smiles. The greatest thing, was that we would have time to talk to them all for a while. We had the time to get to know them. 

We had been offered countless opportunities to go on tour. Everything from residencies in Las Vegas, to arena tours all over the world, and each one we declined. We had found a new place in the world, helping others, and it truly felt wrong acting as though we were still one direction with Zayn being gone. Even though we had a track record of still going on with the band after Zayn quit. But this was different, because there was no chance of him coming back.

The fans, were understanding in our choice to not return from the hiatus. But we all knew deep down inside that we had not been forgiven. A part of me, sincerely felt extreme guilt, over the fact that I had personally promised our return. I felt awful for breaking that promise. We all knew that we had let our fans down. We knew how badly they craved our reunion. They began begging for that reunion nearly the moment we announced our break. But it would never come. We never did come back. 

We all felt an extreme guilt that none of us had made an effort in keeping in touch with each other, especially Zayn. After he died, we all tried harder. We got together every Sunday for brunch. We would go on adventures together, and just generally made a much greater effort to keep in contact. The Sunday brunches evolved into our favorite event. It was like a religion, and none of us ever missed a week. 

We would meet near to lunchtime, rotating between each others homes. Sometimes we would all bring potluck type sales, but most of the time we would just order in fried chicken. And then we would proceed to just enjoy eachothers company for a day. We would spend time reminiscing, and catching up on things from the previous week. We would talk through our trials and offer one another advice. And we would celebrate each other's lives.

On one of these such Sunday lunches, Niall came with a young brunette in tow, named Kait. She had grown up in Utah, of all places, and Niall quickly took a great liking to her. She was sweet. She was honest. She was smart and she was absolutely everything that Niall deserved in a woman. Niall deserved the world, and with Kait, that's exactly what he got.

She was funny, and had a very quick sense of humor. She was sarcastic. But, like a lightw

It took less than five minutes for all of us to see exactly why Niall was so infatuated with this new girl. She made him the happiest man alive. Niall was the happiest we had ever seen him when he was with her.

They were married in September, up at the Park City Ski Resort, as the leaves were all changing into beautiful shades of orange. Harry, Liam and I all acted as a joint roll of his best man. 

There was a long period where Niall didn't have anyone of romantic interest. I always wondered why he didn't constantly have a woman on his arm, considering Niall was certainly the best catch of all of us. But seeing him with Kait, it all made sense. He was meant to wait for her. He didn't need to have useless relationships, he just needed the one that would ultimately last forever.

Nearly ten years after Zayn had passed away, Liam died in a car accident. He had been driving in Los Angeles, stopped at a stop sign, when he was rear ended by a semi truck. He died instantly. 

A few months after Liam passed away, Niall passed away unexpectedly in his sleep. There was nothing wrong with him. He wasn't sick. He didn't have a single health problem to account for. He just simply passed away one night.

Never in a million years would I have thought that by the age of forty harry and I would be the only ones left from the band. Those boys were our best friends, our brothers, and all of the sudden, they were all gone. It came with an odd sense of loneliness. I would find myself at the studio, hoping that one of them would walk back through my door, but i knew that would never happen.

Harry and I, had twenty spectacular years after Niall left. We lived life to the fullest, and loved every minute of it. So many things happened in those twenty years, I became a grandfather. And even though my son wanted nothing to do with me, I wore the title of grandfather with pride even though i never met my granddaughter. Most of our friends and family passed away in those twenty years. We learned to rely on each other. 

We started recognizing Harry's symptoms a few years after Simon passed away. He would forget little things like the word, toaster. His speech was even slower than normal, and had become jumbled. He would tell the same stories four times to the same person in an hour. That's when we quietly went to the hospital, and learned that at the age of 63 Harry was being diagnosed with Rapid Progression Alzheimer's disease. Which seemed far too young in my humble opinion.

I watched my mother die from leukemia, which was truly awful, but i soon came to learn that Alzheimer's was much worse, in my humble opinion. 

Harry was a person with an absolutely beautiful mind and it was a cruel twist of fate that he would lose everything that made him, him, in his death.

I remember, about two months before Harry ultimately passed away, he forgot who I was. I made a valiant attempt to behave like Noah from The Notebook. But Harry never did remember me again, and when he did remember me, he was convinced that he hated me.

That too, was a cruel twist of fate, to watch my lover slowly fall out of love with me. Harry, didn't have any of his memories, but I remembered everything. And i still loved him, even when he considered me a stranger. In all reality, when he did pass away, I was happy for him. I knew that if there was a God, and that he was a half decent guy, that Harry surely want suffering anymore. I knew that he had been reunited with all of our friends and family. And ever since the moment he passed away, I have been waiting to be reunited with him.”

Louis looks out the window from his studio, the studio he built from the ground up with Harry. He looks out the window, and he feels a relief, after getting everything off his chest. All if the sudden, it makes sense why everything had to happen the way it did in his life. And he feels grateful for his opportunity to change the world.

Austin, sits in his chair, and smiles at Louis, before cracking open a cold can of beer. He leans back in his chair, and looks at Louis

“Welcome home Mr. Tomlinson.”


End file.
